No Living Man
by Arwen Imladviel
Summary: Alternate universe from the field of Pelennor. Merry tells the story of Dernhelm's darkest secret, which has nothing to do with what he wears under his armour, but much to do with death and despair.


**I am no living man**

A story situated in an alternative universe based on the books of J. R. R. Tolkien 

I, Meriadoc Brandybuck, have seen this and I witness the truth of it with my oath. As you know I took part in the Battle of the Field of Pelennor, a small part but a part nonetheless. This happened after all but one had deserted the fallen king Théoden. 

Horrible was the black-robed wraith astride the winged beast! An iron crown was upon its invisible head, and its monstrous hand carried a battle-axe. The Lord of Nazguls! I was mad in fear and of no help to Dernhelm. 

For Dernhelm it was, the last man standing. Dernhelm, young of face and slight of build, with despair in his eyes and because of that despair he felt no fear. He had nothing to lose. This was what he was here for - to fight until the end. To take part in a hopeless last stand against the gathering darkness. 

He spoke, and the Nazgul answered. Their words were the harsh speech of enemy to enemy. The wraith declared no living man could slay him. And Dernhelm replied:  
'I am no living man! Begone. You stand in my way.' 

The stories tell here that Dernhelm had dropped his helmet and that the golden braids of Eówyn Eomund's daughter shone bright under the shadow. Stories tell she had tears upon her cheek. Stories even say that I saw cold and harsh determination in her eyes. 

How little they know! I was too far to see her eyes, but I do not think she cried. Yes, she was Eówyn, but she was Dernhelm as well. And she certainly would not drop her helmet until the battle was over. 

A sword and shield she raised indeed, but I knew not her name then. Dernhelm he was to me, my comrade. And I saw he needed my aid. 

I dared not look at them, for fear they would feel my eyes. My duty was that of a backstabbing assassin. Dernhelm would not approve of it, and it was essential our enemy did not notice me. He knew of halflings, as certainly as Saruman did. I had no wish to be mistaken for Frodo _again_. 

Then I saw Dernhelm lift his sword in one bold and skilled strike. The winged beast fell. The enemy was upon him and struck with his axe. Now was my turn, and I stabbed him with the blade of the Barrow.   
'Dernhelm!' I called.  
On the last strength he had, my companion raised his blade and pierced the flaming eye of the Dark Rider. Dernhelm's sword shattered, the iron crown fell on the ground as empty as the cloak that covered it. A wailing shriek pierced the air. 

I wept. And I took off Dernhelm's helm and saw whom I mourned, and I mourned all the more. For truly she was Eówyn, and she was dead. A cold hand touched my shoulder. A voice spoke, a voice I knew and yet did not know.  
'Meriadoc. You should not be here.'  
'I'm sorry.' I thought he meant I should have been left behind in Edoras.  
'Are you dead, Meriadoc?' Somehow the question did not seem strange at the moment.  
'I don't think so.'  
'Yet look around you!'  
I obeyed and saw that friend and enemy alike, all avoided the place we stood in. And I looked at the shape behind my shoulder.  
He was tall. He wore the black cloak of the Nazgul King. I sought my knife and found it not. His hand now grasped me tightly and pressed me down, forcing me to remain on my knees.  
'I am not the enemy. I merely picked up what he dropped, and rightly so, for it is mine by right.' He showed me his other hand. There was an iron ring with a ruby on his finger.  
'Oh yes. The ransom of a king, the might of a Ringwraith.'  
'Who are you?' I asked, trembling.  
'Look at my eyes.' 

His eyes were grey as steel and full of a despair I knew. Dernhelm had found what he sought: Death.  
'You should not!'  
'Do what? Wear the iron crown and the mightiest of the nine Rings? Look at me and tell me I do not belong to them!' 

Those were his words: belong to them, instead of them belonging to him. In death Dernhelm was what his soul had always been: A young, soft-bearded rider of Rohan, with his hair long like that of a commander. He wore some kind of armour under the cloak, and a black sword had appeared from somewhere into his belt. There was no feminity in his features, yet he was beautiful. Very much like Aragorn, or like Aragorn would be if he were a man of Rohan. Noble and fearsome. Dernhelm of despair. Yes, he belonged to the Ring. But the Ring belonged to Sauron, Lord of the Rings. 

He seemed to read my mind.  
'I shall go to Morgul and take the seat of the Nazgul King. I shall defeat Sauron like you defeated our enemy: from behind. He won't suspect a thing. Speak of this to no living soul, Meriadoc! For Sauron has ears almost everywhere. The place we are in is halfway to the grave, and that is a place Sauron fears. Give me your oath of silence, Meriadoc, that you will not speak of this to anyone until Sauron, Saruman and the Master Ring are all destroyed!' He must have noticed my doubt, for he added:  
'If you do not swear, and swear by Frodo's life - for he has taken a path near Morgul - I shall slay you right here. You are already halfway to death anyway. Repeat after me.' And I swore by Frodo's life:  
'until Sauron, Saruman, and the One Ring are destroyed I shall not tell anyone what I have seen halfway to death. Instead I will say that Eówyn died peacefully and her last words were Théoden's name.' 

'And do not think that is a lie! Eówyn is dead indeed, and so are all her feelings. I am Dernhelm the Desperate, King of a Dark realm, slave to a ring yet a rebelling slave!' 

And Dernhelm took his hand off my shoulder. I was back in the world of the living, and the battle raged around me. The black-cloaked wraith that called himself Dernhelm was gone. Eómer and his men rode towards me, and Théoden lifted his head from stupor to speak his last words to his nephew. 

This is my story, and I swear it is true! By the Grey ship that bore Frodo away, by the fire of Orodruin and by Elessar's crown. I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, comrade to Dernhelm, and Knight of Riddermark. 


End file.
